


fine, make me your villain

by pathofcomets



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Anger Management, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, Mutant Powers, Please for the love of god someone give Wanda a hug, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29399193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pathofcomets/pseuds/pathofcomets
Summary: Wanda does not remember how she got here, the suburbs calm and warm under the summer sun, the wedding dress tight around her chest, the smile lovely on her face. But she remembers the past and if she is to choose where she wants to live, then… She looks at Vision, catching him looking at her. She’ll choose this.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57





	fine, make me your villain

**Author's Note:**

> This is me basically saying: Wanda didn't do anything wrong and I would lay down my life for her.

Wanda wonders how many times she has to lose everything. It feels like a _must_ , like a _need_ – or at least that’s how they’ll try to argue her losses, afterwards. Your country is facing war, so of course you will lose someone. Doesn’t matter that those are your parents, the people who should have loved you and protected you unconditionally to the end of time.

Wanda and Pietro give up everything searching for a simple answer: why them? The answer, of course, never comes; the rage builds up, painful in her bones, bitter on her tongue, strong in her powers. There’s no real answer anyway. Pietro seems to find peace in the notion of “them, so it wasn’t someone else.” But Pietro is all goodness and brains, her brother, her twin, all she has left. Of course he can find a purpose in the anger and the pain. Wanda has always been the spoiled one, the one shaking her head and putting her foot down when she dislikes something. And Wanda dislikes so many things, but never him. With Pietro, all is bearable. Even the powers. Even a war.

Wanda is fighting in a war herself, her back straight and determination bubbling at her fingers, so of course any sacrifice is acceptable. It’s what one signs up for. If there was any signing involved, Wanda would have added a special clause: you can take anything from me, but not him. But she thought it obvious, her brother who held everything together with one single phrase, _We will survive._

So why didn’t he? Wanda _feels_ half of her body go down. The only person that has always been right by her side, the only person she had left, the only person who deserved to truly get out unscathed, after all the pain he had endured and carried. And Wanda explodes.

It shouldn’t have been him, but it was. Like this is any form of consolation, when she’s pushed from house arrest to house arrest, when they’re looking at her like their fear would hurry her arrival to wherever her brother is now. _Nowhere. Dead._

Wanda closes her eyes, willing her powers to calm down to the dull hum under her skin. She knows they’re afraid of her, but she only knows she misses her twin, her _dead_ twin and at the end of the day, she’s a criminal, and not a grieving young woman who lost everything. Again.

At least Vision pretends. Actually, she’s quite sure he is not afraid of her – not in the way the others are: for their lives, for the lives of who they love. Maybe it is because they share a bit of their origin, a familiarity in their powers. Maybe it is because his words and thoughts are all logic and sense, things that she does not possess, and nor does she wants to hear right now. But he pretends nonetheless, to care. It annoys her more than she likes, because in actuality it hurts her. The roll of the name of the dish that reminds her of home, on his tongue, is unfamiliar but full of warmth.

She wants to do something. Stop the pity, push at his body until there’s nothing standing between her and the outside. It’s unfair of him, to be so calm when she’s so close to entirely losing it. It’s unfair of him, to become the rock that grounds her to reality when all she wants is to slip away.

Wanda asks herself often: what would Pietro do? And then she argues against it, until she reaches the conclusion that she wanted in the first place. It’s the sigh of agreement that she imagines in her head that she desires, the only support that she seems to get nowadays.

“I can’t control their fear, only my own.”

And Wanda has been terrified. Afraid to do more harm, afraid to lose something else, though she’s not sure she has anything left to lose. But she’s been there before, thinking that, and the universe proved it to her that there are, still, things and people that it can take away from her.

So she pushes against Vision. She wants to say: thank you for not being afraid, but I’m going to be fearsome and in it will be my strength. Thank you for trying to find another path, but we both know it will not fit me. I’m sorry for the hurt. Instead, she tightens her jaw and leaves him behind.

It’s hard. Not as hard as what she’s been through so far.

Wanda has nightmares, often. She wakes up in the morning, her throat raw, the glass of water on the bedside table a haven of respite. All the books on her shelves flown to the floor, her desk in disarray. The pillow on her right, at the other end of the room. Fixing it all is just a matter of a flick of her wrist, but the hollowness remains, settling in her bones, and she’s weary and tired.

Wanda never has nightmares when she’s with him. She steals moments in Vision’s embrace, scattered across the globe, when their missions find them in the same place – and, somehow, it works. She had told him “I won’t apologize,” and he smiled, warmly, in that way that only he can, and replied “I didn’t expect you to” and that was that. When the next time he attempted cooking, he actually had all the right ingredients, Wanda flushed with pleasure. That was his apology alright.

And from then on, they just made things work. Sometimes she shivers with her fear, that this can’t be this easy, that disaster is waiting around the corner to strike. Wanda is happy, but she’s happy with the awareness of grief. It took her a year to allow herself to tell Vision she misses him, breathless over the phone, hands tights around the device, counting in her head to stop herself from smashing it to pieces. Does she have any right to miss him, when he’s just a mere thousands of kilometers away, and still _alive?_ Vision chuckles, all pleased.

“I love you, Wanda.”

It is the first time he tells her that. The line goes silent.

“How?” she blurts out, and she wants to finish the call, embarrassment almost unbearable, but what she wants to know is: why me?

“Because you are you,” Vision says, so certain, like it’s obvious to absolutely everyone else, and not just to him.

Wanda wants to tell him all the reasons why he ought not to. Things are easier with him, so much easier, and she’s sure he can tell too, how much of a lifeline he became to her, overwhelmingly so. She’s not sure she ought to love him too, so much, but she does. She loves him too, and she’s an only child now and she can be selfish for once, she can hope, she can allow herself this.

“You’re so unfair,” she sighs, and she hears him repeating it again, before she ends the call.

Contrary to popular belief, Wanda does not like fighting. She has fought since she was 10: to stay alive, to find a purpose, to keep people alive, to stop the world from ending. Just because she’s been doing it for so long, just because she’s so good at it, it does not mean that she enjoys it. The colour red haunts her: inescapable in a battle. The irony of it being the colour of blood as well does not escape her.

Wanda fights because she has something worth protecting. It’s as terribly easy at this. Wanda is merciless when she decides to go all out, because she’s revenging her losses with each kill. Vision, kind and peaceful man of her heart, does not understand it. Vision, who only destroys for the goodness in what remains. Wanda would like to learn from him, but does not know how. Sometimes, she catches the questioning glances of some soldiers, who have heard the rumours but cannot understand how come the Scarlet Witch can be loved, and loved by him.

She wants them to know: Pietro’s name is the only word she still pronounces with an accent. It’s an I love you wrapped in less words, and the proof that he’s still alive, in her and their language and thanks to the place they come from, the memories they share together. There’s only one shade of red that will never bother her, because it’s the colour of her love, and it suits her so much to find solace and pain in the same thing. And…

“It shouldn’t be you, but it is.”

Wanda sees half of her soul go down. Even worse, she’s the one who has to kill him: for the survival of the universe. She knows he can read it on her face, in her tears, in the anguish at the corner of her mouth, that she’d let the entire universe die, to hell with it all, if he is still left in it at the end. But maybe in the years they’ve been together, Wanda did learn a thing or two from him, so she wields her power, and has him as her target.

As always, Wanda is not allowed to grief. She has no time to grief, even as now, fully and entirely, she has lost it all. Her twin, the person she’s shared a home with ever since before they were born. Her soulmate, the man who has smoothed all her edges and who saw and loved and kissed all of her ugly. Wanda fights in a war but what she wants is to scream and scream and scream and cover the entire world in **red**.

Wanda does not remember how she got here, the suburbs calm and warm under the summer sun, the wedding dress tight around her chest, the smile lovely on her face. But she remembers the past and if she is to choose where she wants to live, then… She looks at Vision, catching him looking at her. She’ll choose this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I also have [a twitter](https://twitter.com/pathofcomets) where where you can reach me, and where I rant about the whole writing process, post snippets from time to time and you can see what else I work on!


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